Proven
by WildHorseFantasy
Summary: Agent Philip Kramer is back and he is the last thing Peter and Neal need right now. Does he really want Neal and Peter's help on the case or is he just looking to see if they fail? Set Mid Season 4. Possible spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar, just sharing my imagination for fun._

* * *

The sight of Agent Philip Kramer in the office sent ripples of near panic through Neal Caffrey. He was tempted to retreat back out the glass doors on sight. Only the stubborn, rebellious streak in him prevented it. One thing he knew from being a felon was never to show fear, unless you wanted the other guy to know your weakness. The last thing he would show Kramer was that he was afraid of what he could do to him.

Peter was right at his side, and he too, paused for a split second. Kramer had been his mentor and friend. Now Kramer was convinced Peter was being played at best and crooked at worst. Peter was convinced the man had crossed a line.

They hadn't heard from him since Neal had returned from his escape to Cape Verde. Neal had never asked whether getting Kramer off his back was part of the deal Peter has worked out to get him back to White Collar in exchange for taking down the fugitive McLeish.

"What's he doing here?" Neal kept his voice low.

"No idea." Peter murmured back.

They met Jones and Diana, trying to keep an eye on Kramer, who was up by Hughes office. "Well, guys? What's he want?"

"He hasn't talked to anyone but Hughes." Diana said. Even as she said it, Hughes appeared, Kramer alongside and gave both of them the double finger point.

Neal glanced at Peter whose mouth had set in a grim line. He himself was acutely aware of every exit point from the building and who lay between him and them. He was also aware heading for them might tank Peter's career. In spite of their personal conflicts it would be a poor way to show his gratitude.

"Come on." Peter nudged him and Neal followed, reluctantly. They headed into the conference room.

Neal didn't pretend to relax as he noticed the artwork posted on the wall. He studied it silently.

Peter and Kramer greeted each other, a good deal more coolly than in the past.

"Agent Kramer has reason to believe this stolen painting is in the area." Hughes said briskly. Neal glanced at him. Hughes eyes were moving between them and clearly he was avoiding mention of the previous conflicts. "And we may have an edge in finding it."

"What edge is that?" Peter asked, wary.

A folder was flipped open showing numerous pictures including a prison ID. Neal's brows rose, mildly surprised. The name was Riley Harriswood. And it certainly rang a bell.

"I believe your CI knows him, right Neal?"

Neal felt a growl of dislike rise in him. He liked people he respected using his first name. Somehow Kramer saying it made it feel dirty.

"We've met. Been awhile."

"How long?" Peter asked.

"Mm..." Neal's eyes rolled to the ceiling, thinking. "Long time...ten years at least..."

"Surely not that long." Kramer stated calmly.

Neal's eyes narrowed. "Yes, that long. Last I heard, He hasn't been in the States and I haven't been to Europe." He'd been in prison. He'd been on a tracking anklet. He'd been to Cape Verde and a few islands between. That was it.

Peter glanced between Kramer and Neal. He was resisting the urge to intervene, for both their sakes, Neal suspected.

"When did this painting go missing?" Neal finally asked, glancing at the Rubens look a like on the wall.

"En route to a DC art exchange from England."

"And the forger?" Peter regretted asking as soon as he said it. But he wasn't seeing any reaction from Neal to suggest he was the forger, and if he read Kramer right, that is precisely what Kramer was fishing for.

"Unknown. But the painting failed authentication because it was in an accident right outside the museum. It got chemicals on it and when they cleaned it, they found it was a fake."

Judging from the way Kramer was looking at him, Neal knew the man suspected him. It was with some small relief that he knew he hadn't done this one.

"However, we checked along the route and came up with evidence that this Riley Harriswood was in a diner along the route. And he had what could've been a painting with him."

"That's a lot of maybe's." Peter observed.

"Would be, except someone at the shipping company rolled over under pressure and admitted they were hired to switch it out for the man."

"And now it's here in New York." Hughes observed. "And Caffrey knows the man selling it."

"Knew the man selling it. Like I said, it's been awhile."

"That might be a good thing. After all, he might not have heard your working for the FBI." Kramer cocked his head in what Neal sensed was a challenge.

Peter looked uneasy. "What else do we know about this guy?"

"Not much in his file." Kramer observed. "Used to be a fence ranging the East Coast until he was picked up and sent to prison." He eyed Neal. "When he got out, he apparently went to Europe, where he's suspected of other crimes. No convictions."

"We want you to get in touch." Hughes told Neal, still glancing between him and Kramer. The air was crackling with the challenge between them. Peter was uneasy about it.

"I gathered that." Neal said. "Then what?"

"Meet with him and get intel on who he's working for. We get him to sell the painting, possibly to you, then take him down."

"Okay..."

"No problem with it?"  
"Not so far. Should I have?" Neal asked.

"Not if you haven't done anything."


	2. Chapter 2

The escape from the meeting room really was an escape. Neal felt he could hardly breathe, the air was so heavy with tension.

"Let's grab lunch." Peter stated as soon as they were out the door.

"I need to talk to my contacts."

"After lunch."

Neal scowled and opened his mouth to argue.

"I know you haven't been happy with me lately." Ellen's death had caused Neal to go off course a bit, to Peter's way of thinking. Neal was upset with him about how he handled the investigation. But now was not a good time for him to be acting out. "But Kramer is here and we can't afford to give him any ammunition."

"He didn't need ammunition before. He made up his own." Neal grumbled.

"Anything I need to know about that guy you didn't mention?"

Neal looked at him as the elevator doors closed, leaving them alone.

"I'm not asking for detailed adventures here, just some kind of warning. You've had killers like Keller, Wilkes...then you know types like Alex, who you never know what she'll do..."

Neal sighed as they hit the street, heading for the nearest deli, which wasn't the best but was close. "I really haven't seen him in years. He used to work for Hale, and Hale was one of the last gentleman fences. He taught him that way, I guarantee. But it was before he was locked up. That can change a guy. I...did encounter him once, overseas. Did some business. And I did get the idea he was different. But how different, if he's dangerous or not, I just don't know. But rumor has it he could be, at least to cops."

Peter considered. "You're not going in alone. I'll be the buyer, you authenticate."

"Works for me...does Kramer know that yet?"

"I think Kramer is thinking you are in on it and forged the thing."

"I gathered. It was implied in that crack about seeing him more recently."

"Well, it tells us one thing."

"What?"

"The forger must be good, or he wouldn't mistake him for you." He observed as the entered the deli.

Neal froze, frowning. "Is that a compliment?" Or a veiled insult? Neal really wasn't sure.

"Any idea who it could be?"  
Now Neal just stared at him, oblivious to the clerk waiting to take his order. Peter nudged him and Neal started and ordered his sandwich. He glared back at Peter.

"Don't take it like that. I believe you. I just thought you might know who could do it. That's what your paid for right?" Peter sat at a small table and started on his sandwich.

"Paid. Right." Neal grumbled. "Enough for a leaky umbrella on a rainy day." Forging that Rubens would be worth the whole umbrella company with a fortune left over. "Not off the top of my head. I need to look into whose available. And I do know it's probably no-one in New York right now. Most of them can do good ID forgeries but on art masterpieces, they'd be second rate hacks."

He had to contact Mozzie. Neal wasn't thrilled to tell Mozzie that Kramer was back in town.

* * *

"Do we need to make contingency plans?"

"I'm not running, Moz."

"What if he starts chasing?"

"Then brush up on your case law, Perry Mason, because I'm going to fight if I have to."

"Ouch." Mozzie sat back. "So what does he want?"

"Claims to want a Peter Paul Rubens, switched for a forgery en route from London, England, to a DC museum. It was switched in Virginia. Riley Harriswood is involved and apparently the sale is going on here."

"Riley Harriswood! It's been ages since we saw him." Mozzie scowled. "Didn't he fall in with a tough crowd?"  
"Yeah. Anyway, Kramer is eyeing me like I did the forgery, which I didn't. It might help to know who did."

"So we need to give up a forger." Mozzie sounded mournful. "As well as Riley, Hales old friend."

"Didn't he and Hale have a falling out?"

"After he got out, yeah. Said he was too rough. He really started to hate cops in a really personal way. Something really bad must've happened to him in prison. I don't like this. Could be dangerous."

"I'll have Peter backing me up if I go in. And, much as I hate to admit Kramer has a point, it's possible that Riley having been out of the country will work in our favor. They don't know I've been working for the feds."

"You hope."

"Definitely hope." Neal muttered.

"You know, it could be a forger from outside the US."

"It could. May very well be, given that it came from England."


	3. Chapter 3

The warehouse Peter and Neal met Riley Harriswood was full of old crates, half empty, open and rotting. Neal felt a cold prickle on the back of his neck. Was it just because Kramer was with the team watching? The man had argued against Peter coming in. He'd wanted to send one of his team, and Peter had flat refused. It wasn't just a territorial dispute between DC and New York but a dispute about whether Neal was expendable or not, a member of their team or a felon to be taken down. In spite of their recent differences, Neal felt a rush of gratitude. He had a bad feeling about this and he doubted it was only Kramer causing it.

"Riley?" He put on his best con man poker face as Riley showed himself. The man's dark streaked blond hair fell over blazing dark eyes. The angular face was tighter somehow and he knew this was not the man Hale had mentored. He had changed greatly.

"This your buyer?" The voice was cold and flat.

"Yeah." Neal didn't trade names.

Peter was holding a briefcase with cash. Riley was holding what could've been the painting. And Neal had the prickling sensation of unfriendly eyes on him. He kept his eyes on the exchange as he tried to define the feeling. Was it just knowing Kramer was out there? Or something else? He kept his eyes soft, the better to allow his peripheral vision to work. His eyes darted up to a shape overhead. A bird, trapped in the building. A flash of light, to the right. His eyes fell on the shadow where the bird had perched. His eyes widened as a dark shape pointing something at them. He knew it wasn't one of theirs.

"That's the real painting." Neal gave the take down signal before he'd seen it. His eyes were glued to the shape above. He heard the agents were moving in but not before the shape above reared up. and a glance at Peter revealed the red light right on his chest. Peter looked sharply back at him in surprise.

"Look out!" Neal lunged forward, knocking Peter flat. The crack of the rifle rang out even as the first yells of FBI and hands up reached them. Peter scrambled up and decked Riley, who'd drawn a gun. He took him down, getting the cuffs on, looking around in confusion. He spotted the agents taking out a man above with a rifle.

That's when he saw the blood splatter. He spun back to Neal, horrified to see he hadn't moved. "Neal!" He felt for a pulse, it was there, but so was the blood. Blood on his side and head. Neal had banged his head into a crate, but the blood on his side... Peter yelled for someone to call an ambulance. Neal was choking, making gurgling noises and his eyes rolled open. Peter saw panic there. "No! Neal, hang on kid, I'm right here..."

Neal's hand clutched his.

He hardly looked up, hardly noticed Jones and Diana showing up, looking on with horror and concern, collecting Riley. Kramer appeared. Peter didn't give him a glance. He kept all his attention on the young man at his side, struggling to breathe. He willed him to hang on. Finally medics arrived and pushed him aside. Neal's eyes rolled after him and he lost his grip.

Things passed in a blur for Peter after that. He was at the hospital, calling Elizabeth. He saw Kramer there, an odd expression on his face. Hughes showed up. There were no answers, not yet. Neal was in surgery. Peter heard bits of conversation. His people arrived in time to see the gunman. That was why Neal gave the code phrase, no doubt. But they hadn't had a shot, hadn't had time to stop him. He'd been aiming at Peter. He'd been hired to take out the FBI agent. Apparently Harriswood heard rumors that Neal was working for the feds. He decided if he thought the deal was fake, he'd take out the agent. He'd had a passionate hatred for cops since his prison stint. Apparently terrible things had been done to him in there.

But his plan was foiled because Neal had seen his gunman take aim and intervened.

Elizabeth showed up at the hospital. She paused beside Kramer.

"I'm surprised to see you here." She stated.

"I want to know how it turns out. I didn't see any of this coming."

"That doesn't surprise me. I am surprised you care though." Elizabeth stared firmly at him. He'd been welcomed by her and Peter. He'd known them for years. The fact that he'd not given Neal even the courtesy of a chance to prove himself galled her.

Kramer studied her.

"If you ever suggest he's just conning Peter again..." she swallowed, eyes moving to the emergency room where only personnel could go... "I will personally kick you all the way back to DC." She headed off to Peter's side.

Kramer looked after her, studying Peter standing before those doors with his hands pressed on it like he could will himself through. Peter would've been the one on the other side, in an operating room, had Neal not intervened.

He shook his head slowly and was suddenly shoved aside by a short bald man wearing glasses. He frowned as the man charged up to Peter and Elizabeth, urgently asking questions. He looked very dissatisfied with the answers and his final response was to glance back at Kramer and glare.

"Whose he?" He asked of Diana who was standing closest of the agents. Jones was further off, eyes glued to the floor and holding his hands behind his back. He almost look like he was praying.

Diana shrugged. "An acquaintance." Her voice was flat. She wasn't encouraging him, neither was she being rude.

"Friend of Caffrey's?"

"Nutty professor sort." Diana's voice was firm. "Don't ask me to explain him. I doubt anyone can."

"He have a record?"

"No." Diana knew that meant Mozzie had never been caught, but she didn't tell Kramer that.

Kramer paused. "Did you believe Caffrey would do that for Peter?"

She stared at him, then, looked him square in the eye. "Yes."

"In spite of everything? In spite of the cons?"

"He'll go a long way for an ally, or a friend. I've even seen him take risks for strangers. But Peter? No question he'd do it for Peter."


	4. Chapter 4

"Am I dead? Or dreaming?" Neal looked around. He couldn't see much but a golden mist.

"Or something in between?" asked Ellen. She embraced him.

"Neal, you have to go back." Ellen's arms were warm around him. He clutched her like he was a small child again.

"I don't want to leave you."

"You have to stop them Neal. So many have been hurt already. You have the courage. You've proven it. You're strong enough. So are your friends."

"I'm tired of hurting."

"I know." She hugged him. "I love you like you are my own son. But don't give up on life, Neal. I'll be waiting when it's over."

"Not sure I deserve to be where you are."

"It's not just about deserving. The more you think you deserve it, the less likely you are to find it."

Neal looked at her. He didn't hurt at all here. No pain or grief. Just joy and light, like when he was a child again and all the world's wonders waiting.

"To die would be a great adventure."

"To live would be a greater one." Her touch on his cheek was gentle. "You are not alone. Ever."

Neal nodded and hugged her. Already he felt her receding.

It was with great reluctance that he found the rest of himself. It hurt. Burning pain. Thing down his throat, pain in his side, in his head. He was tied to the bed. Sudden panic made him struggle for a moment. Then out of habit he started moving his arms, working on getting wiggle room to squirm free.

"Hey." A soft voice made him pause. His eyes cracked open. "Don't fight it. Let me get a nurse. You don't need to pick these!"

His eyes followed a blurry Peter, who was undamaged, to the door. A nurse hurried in. She looked him over and called for the doctor. It took a few hours before they really freed him. He was aching all over and wild with claustrophobia by then. Only Peter's steadying hand on his arm kept him from bolting out of sheer instinct.

"You okay?" Neal was finally able to whisper. Peter had mostly settled into a solid form by then.

"Me? I'm fine. You scared us half to death. Even Mozzie's been here, acting like he'd fend the grim reaper himself from your door."

Neal half smiled. "He hates hospitals." He whispered.

"Don't talk too much. You need to heal."

"She made me come back."

"Who?"

"Ellen. She said don't follow her yet." His voice was a whisper. "Have to stop them."

Peter nodded slowly. "We will. Whoever they are. Rest." He studied his friend as the young man's eyes slid shut again.

That command was hard. The worst place to rest was a hospital, filled with nurses who came in and woke him up checking on him. He was left trying to sort dream from reality on more than one occasion. And when fully awake, the after shock of his near death experiences threatened to take hold. Mozzie snuck in during the off hours. He was sneaking out when he stiffened, whirled and ducked into Neal's bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

In came the man Neal least wanted to see right now. Philip Kramer. Neal's eyes widened, then narrowed. "What do you want?" There was no one to witness his rudeness but Mozzie and if there had been the pain and drugs could be blamed.

Kramer paused, studying him. "Obviously I'm one of your least favorite people."

Neal closed his eyes hoping he would go away.

"But I'm here to apologize."

One eye popped open in surprise.

"I don't know how determined you really are to reform or not. And I do know you've put Peter's career right in the danger zone."

Neal's fists clenched and he glimpsed Mozzie glaring through the bathroom door hinge.

"But I do know your relationship isn't just the con that I thought it was." Kramer studied him. "Because no con would go that far. You nearly died."

"I noticed." Neal winced as a pang shot through him.

Kramer cocked his head. "You get credit for the take down. And the getting shot in the line of duty. It was above and beyond. So before I leave for DC all I wanted to say is...I hope you do it."

Neal looked at him.

"Really reform. For his sake. And yours. I stopped believing it was possible, a long time back. But he believes it. And maybe you do too. Don't let him down."

"I don't plan on it."

"I'm not sure how much is planning and how much is habit and DNA."

"Mmm." Neal's eyes half slid shut. He wasn't faking it now. He was tired. From the bathroom he could see Mozzie's eyes moving behind the hinges. He was on pain killers. Babbling might be a side effect, not a good one for a felon before an unforgiving FBI Agent. He wondered if Mozzie would leap out and interrupt if he did.

Peter appeared in the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Apologizing to your boy for thinking he was conning you. And encouraging him not too."  
"That mean you've rethought my position?"

"I still think you're in danger of crossing the line. But no, I don't think a con would kill himself for the long con. Even if he doesn't plan to reform, he cares what happens to you."

"Good. I think. Does that mean you won't try and shanghai him again?"

"I'm not sure I'd want to tangle with Elizabeth. I think she'd come after me like that girl in the pirate movies..."

Neal rolled his eyes at Peter. "Italy."

"What?"

"Forger in Italy. Specializes in Rubens. Rayv something."

"I'll look into that. What, did you dream it up?"

"Amazing what you can find in dreams..." His breathing evened out and he drifted off again. Kramer looked at Peter a moment, at the way he looked at Neal and then left the room. Mozzie sighed so loud in the bathroom that Peter shoved it open and poked his head in.

"Hey, a little privacy?" Moz shoved passed and peered out in the hall to see if the coast was clear, then headed out opposite of the way Kramer took.

Peter rolled his eyes and looked back to see Neal smiling. Asleep or not, angry with him or not his friend and their friendship were going to be fine.

* * *

The End.

;) But there may be a sequel.


End file.
